your conscience and leave their resolution to others. This is neither logical nor responsible.'
'Then do I understand it correctly, sir, that you require me to assume the character of a spy in some affair?' Renzi asked coldly.
D'Auvergne slumped back. 'No, no. That was never in my desiring,' he said wearily. 'Mr Renzi, you have gifts of insight and understanding with formidable intelligence and a rare admiration for the primacy of logic. All this fits you in a remarkable manner for the role of assisting myself—simply lightening the burden, if you will—in the conduct of operations of a clandestine nature against Napoleon.'
Renzi felt the chill of foreboding.
'If you are in any doubt as to their importance, let me disclose to you that I communicate not with Sir James but directly to the foreign secretary of Great Britain, as indeed I have done since the Terror of Paris in 'ninety-two. The work is allowed to be of such sovereign value that I am entrusted with the maintenance of a network in France whose extent . . . is large.'
He sighed raggedly. 'At the moment I have none in whom I can place my trust and I bear the burden alone. It was my hope that in some degree you would feel able to offer me your help—
'Help?' Renzi muttered.
'To maintain the confidential papers, take up some of the load of secret correspondence, speak with those arriving from France with news—and, on occasion, to favour me with your views in matters compelling a difficult decision.'
Everything in Renzi rebelled against involvement in illicit affairs of deceit and trickery, in the lies and betrayal that must be at its heart. His whole life was predicated on the sure foundation of the honour and moral obligation of a gentleman, and he had no desire to immerse himself in such a moral quagmire. 'Sir. I fear that it would do violence to my nature,' he began, 'notwithstanding your logic and—'
'It's too late for that, Renzi. Whether you like it or no, you are even now privy to information of a most secret nature. But more pressing than that you have been made aware that there is a service you may do for your country to which you are most peculiarly well fitted.'
'Sir, it may well be—'
'Now, it is within your power to turn your back and walk from this room—but for the rest of your days you must live with the knowledge that you have failed when called upon.
'Now, sir, will you do your duty?'
It had been hard to accept that he had been unable to muster any rational argument against the request but he found comfort in observing that the post was only that of confidential secretary taken a trifle further. But he had been wounded by d'Auvergne's polite assurance that there would be no question of personal risk when he had acceded.
Before going further he was curious about one thing: 'On the question of trust, sir, how is it that you are assured my character is as you allege?'
'Oh, on that score, I had your room and small baggage searched, and who but a hopeless scholard would burden himself with Goethe and Locke for light reading?' he smiled.
Renzi returned a thin smile while d'Auvergne opened a businesslike chest and found a pair of heavy, intricate keys. 'The records are in the crypt below. I have one key, you the only other. Be of good care, Renzi. People's lives are in your hands with those papers.'
At Renzi's set face he continued lightly, 'Take it from me, dear fellow, it's a quite different and wider moral framework we find ourselves in, but you will discover that being a friend to logic will extract you safely from many a sentimental mire. For example, see if you can overcome your present scruples sufficiently to detect the transcendent moral certitudes in this little exercise.
'I, as a commander, have several thousand lives in my charge and must meet the foe on the battlefield. If I can convince the enemy commander that my attack will come by course A when, in fact, I will come by B, there will be at the close of that day perhaps some hundreds fewer widows left to grieve. How might this best be brought about?'
Renzi shook his head, even more uncomfortable in this world of shades and compromise.
'Well, here is one sure way. Do you charge a brave man with dispatches, emphasising their grave nature and enjoining their safe delivery by all means. He is not to know their false nature and when he is betrayed and valiantly defends them, even to the death, the enemy will be convinced of their authenticity and act accordingly.'
With a tight smile he concluded, 'So, of course, many lives are saved for the one expended. You really cannot argue against that, Renzi.'
And, to his anguish, he found he could not. These were moral quicksands of a kind he had never been forced to confront before, and their serious considering would occupy him painfully for some time to come.
'I would find it . . . difficult, sir. Er, may I know what action you intend in respect of the letter?' It was something
'Stofflet, you mean. All actions must be considered, of course— but pray tell, what do you yourself propose, Renzi?'
'He must be stopped, of course. Taken up as a spy?' He remembered the kind, bald-headed baker from whom he had begged bread. Now he knew that the man was married happily, with children he expected to see soon.
'For a public demonstration in these fevered times that there are spies in our midst? I think not.'
'An assassination?' Renzi said neutrally.
'Goodness me, no! Crass barbarism and not to be countenanced by a civilised nation.'
'Then taken up quietly and a strict parole demanded before banishment?' Renzi suggested boldly, remembering d'Auvergne's words about brave men suffering death undeservedly.
'Perhaps not. I rather think he must meet with an unfortunate accident.'
CHAPTER 10
KYDD TRUDGED UP THE STEEP STEPS. Without noticing, his path had taken him to another level of the town. It was more densely settled and had an indefinable rakish air, which focused
